


Five Cups of Coffee and a Stack of Pancakes

by Remember When (scribblemyname)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Unusuals
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Coffee, Crossover/Fusion, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Meeting, Get together fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/Remember%20When
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's Bobbi actually. Mockingbird if you're feeling fancy."</p><p>She was being serious, he thought, as he tried to get a good read on her. Huh. "You actually came by for coffee?"</p><p>"Yeah, well, my old place is rubble and the NYPD is cleared to know who I am, so." She drained her cup and slid it forward on the counter. "Can a girl get a refill?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Cups of Coffee and a Stack of Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiddencait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/gifts).



> Written for hiddencait's prompt: And how about some crossover goodness? Jason Walsh/Bobbi Morse. "At least the aliens hadn't wrecked his diner. Course, that meant he suddenly had a whole mess of new customers."
> 
>  
> 
> Just kind of ignoring Allison Beaumont for this fic and replacing Clint Barton with Kate Bishop for ease of ignoring twinnish factors.

Somehow in the middle of the chaos and destruction hordes of unidentified species of armies had wreaked on New York, when all was said and done and the immediate fallout was cleaned up, when looters were locked away and Beaumont and Cole were yanking Shraeger and Walsh off their triple watch to send them home to bed--somehow in the middle of all that, Walsh came home to a diner that was still standing, glass unbroken, sign still able to light up, and living space behind intact.  
  
He didn't question it, didn't have the energy, just stumbled out of his clothes and into the bed. Thinking about it could wait, so it did.  
  


* * *

  
  
It started out as a trickle, not even a very annoying trickle at first, though he had to kick out diners more frequently when duty called.  
  
Aliens had landed in New York. Duty came calling more frequently than should have been reasonable.  
  
"Walsh." Casey slapped her keys on the counter, foot jiggling and bouncing onto her toes a little. "Police escort. More of the good stuff."  
  
The good stuff being weird alien stuff. He made an apologetic face at the guy munching pancakes as he fished out his badge and gun.  
  
"Sorry, bud. Gotta go."  
  


* * *

  
  
Casey took a hot cup of coffee to go and gave him incredulous, _'I can't believe this coffee is so bad, how are you even my partner, Walsh?'_ looks the whole way there.  
  
She had taken about one sip out of it, so it probably looked innocuous and fresh enough to fool someone into thinking she was holding it for someone else. Or at least that was the only reason he could figure someone asking for coffee like a dying man calling for water would snatch up the cup when Casey swung a little too wildly in her direction.  
  
Her being the tall blonde with the sarcastic quips and gorgeous grin that turned into a rather expressive grimace and double eyebrow raise on tasting the stuff. "It's strong. Where'd you get it?" she asked, catching Casey before she could escape.  
  
"A diner. On 2nd. Keeps weird hours." Casey shrugged and Walsh wondered if she was embarrassed for Walsh, the spook, or herself.  
  
The blonde looked at him with speculative narrowed eyes and a suspicious tilt of her head. "Huh." She took another gulp of coffee.  
  


* * *

  
  
It didn't stay a trickle. It became an irregular stream of new customers, and annoying didn't even begin to cover it.  
  
"I'm reducing my hours. We're closed." He'd just mopped up after ten breakfasts and he had a shift in an hour at the station.  
  
But the bell didn't jingle and when he turned around, the spook was in civvies, grinning at him like he'd just made her day.  
  
"Coffee?" she asked with that little gleam in her eye women tended to get when they knew the answer would be yes.  
  
Walsh sighed and fished out a mug to pour in coffee, giving her a look the entire time. "One."  
  
She tipped it toward her mouth, swallowed, smiled, and shrugged. "Thanks."  
  
"So you're the spook."  
  
"It's Bobbi actually. Mockingbird if you're feeling fancy."  
  
She was being serious, he thought, as he tried to get a good read on her. Huh. "You actually came by for coffee?"  
  
"Yeah, well, my old place is rubble and the NYPD is cleared to know who I am, so." She drained her cup and slid it forward on the counter. "Can a girl get a refill?"  
  
He just looked at her for a long moment, truth mixed up in something else he recognized but couldn't name. She was a tough read, probably needed to be in her job. He took the cup and refilled it without breaking their locked stare. "One."  
  
"Thanks." This smile was different, curving up on one side with more pleasure than the one she used to put him at ease.  
  
He thought there was probably an entire language in her smiles.  
  


* * *

  
  
Hawkeye gave Bobbi's cup of coffee a pointed look. "Where?" she demanded.  
  
SHIELD's coffee was sludge, and Kate survived on frequent doses throughout the day.  
  
Bobbi held it out, biting back a grin.  
  
Kate sipped, grimaced, and shook her head. "Never mind."

* * *

Walsh's coffee was black and strong and could make your eyes water. It was only drinkable when piping hot. When it cooled off to less than scalding, it tasted worse than sludge.  
  
Bobbi needed the caffeine and had lived through enough to know what it meant to be grateful for smelly green water when there was nothing else to drink. She liked the coffee.  
  
She also liked the guy.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Death by falling alien heads. Nice."  
  
Bobbi laughed at his deadpan expression. "That your first run-in with the Chitauri?"  
  
"That what they're called?"  
  
Bobbi sipped her coffee, eyes dancing, and didn't answer.  
  
"Nah." He moved right along, unflappable as ever. "That was stopping an attempted robbery in the middle of the attack." He tipped back his own beer, having opted for the alcoholic version of a demitasse earlier, and shook his head. "People."  
  
"Wait. In the middle?" Bobbi shook her head incredulously. "Insane people."  
  
Walsh chuckled. "That too."  
  


* * *

  
  
Bobbi dragged herself out of SHIELD medical and pulled on a jean jacket and t-shirt in her quarters. She wanted off the Helicarrier and away from anything that reminded her of shooting three people, one confirmed dead, and barely making it out alive with the disk she'd been sent to retrieve.  
  
She wanted coffee.  
  
Walsh's place really did keep odd hours, whenever he was home and felt like serving. It was dark out and he was just behind his last exiting customers to lock up when he saw her, gave her a good once over, and raised his eyebrows.  
  
She shot him an apologetic smile and came in since that was as good as an invitation.  
  
He locked the door and killed the sign. "Long day?"  
  
"Week actually. Coffee?"  
  
"Sure." Easygoing as ever, Walsh was. He poured the coffee and studied her as he leaned on the counter, arms crossed.  
  
She knew the little flicks of his eyes were taking in and cataloging each visible bruise, the scrape at her hairline, visible blood, and the stiff way she held her left side. But he didn't say anything, just noticed like the cop he was.  
  
She finished the coffee, set it down, and met his gaze steadily, narrowed her eyes slightly, questioning. "You never ask questions, you know."  
  
He shrugged. "It's your business. 'Sides, I don't need it showing up at my door."  
  
She narrowed her eyes further. "My business or me?"  
  
He sighed, head rolling back for a moment, before he took her cup to wash it. "You know the difference between you and me? I know when to let sleeping dogs lie."  
  
"You're saying I shouldn't care?"  
  
"I'm saying you're picking a fight."  
  
Well, he wasn't wrong. "Broke up with my ex over secrets. They go with the job."  
  
Walsh nodded. "I like secrets."  
  
Her eyebrows shot up.  
  
"You can't trust someone without secrets." He grinned at her, amusement in his eyes as he washed the mug then put it away.  
  
She glanced around, taking in the safety and visibility of the place. "You kicking me out now?"  
  
It was the opposite of what she really meant, but Walsh was Walsh. He got it, hand reaching out to tangle in the ends of her hair. "Only if you want to go."  
  
She didn't.  
  


* * *

  
  
He didn't wake her up when he went to put on the coffee and breakfast. She looked tired enough to sleep through a hurricane, and he really didn't want to know what had colored her black and blue. She wouldn't thank him for asking.  
  
Bobbi appeared when the pancakes were starting to smell good, wearing nothing more than his button up shirt.  
  
He smiled at the sight of her groggy blinking. "Morning."  
  
Her eyes tracked him, labeled him nonthreatening, then moved back to the food. "Hey. Pancakes?"  
  
He passed her a plate.  
  
"Thanks." She took a bite and smiled.


End file.
